My lips feel so tender just in thinking about his kiss, Diary. My eyes close and my hands become Heavy with some kind of Spiritual Density which Somehow doesn't know the difference between my thoughts and the Reality of the event actually taking place; they begin thinking for themselves and they Want to be wrapped around his body, my chest Pressing Ever so Gently yet Firmly up Against his, forming into and tracing themselves Along his sides and back, and then up around and into his shoulders, and then Even More Lovingly if that is Possible, along the sides of his neck, and sealing It All up around the square frame of his cheeks and chin, All the while Surrendering Completely to the Passion that exists within the Power of his Lips and Taste and Touch.

I mentioned Prior the Weight that is Present when Love is there, and All I can really tell you, Diary, is that Each time the Memory of him Strikes me the way it just has, my hands are heavy and my lips are tender, and When they Realize he is no longer here, they feel So missing and So much more like they could Never Kiss, nor Touch, nor Love another quite So much.

It feels as though they have detached from me Completely and Remain detached from me and Floating out in the air in front of me, Always just barely close enough that it Appears that They are Still within my Reach to Reclaim when I want them, and Yet Time and Time Again I find that the Reality of it is that they Are and Ever Will Remain Always Just Far Enough Off and Just Aeirified Enough that They Could Never Be Reclaimed As My Own Again without that Weight and that Consistency that Only Don can Give Them.